


Parthenogenesis

by hazelandglasz



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Self-Indulgent, spontaneous children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 07:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21157547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: Inspired by this gorgeous piece of art, because I really couldn’t resisthttps://frenchtoasties123.tumblr.com/post/187059516647/idea-i-got-after-finding-out-that-some-femalePlease indulge in this little piece of crack ^^ (which of course turned into fluff because well, I am me)





	Parthenogenesis

“Angel?”

Crowley is just a little bit horrified.

Let’s say, 70% horrified, 20% embarrassed like he’s never been.

He can do the maths, but he will never reveal the remaining 10%.

… Oh fine, he supposes he can tell you, since you won’t repeat it to Aziraphale.

You won’t, will you?

“Angel!”

Reminder here that Crowley  _ is _ a demon from Hell, if you catch his drift.

Alright.

The remaining 10% are finding the whole situation unbearable cute.

“Angel, angel, angel!”

To his credit, Aziraphale seems mostly confused as he deals with Crowley’s genius idea--emphasis on the sarcasm here--and its results.

“Crowley--I mean, pink baby Crowley--oh dear, this is going to be tiresome--Pink, please stop pulling on my pants, will you?”

“Angel,” the pink-clad miniature version of Crowley replies in adoration, his little hand still clasping the hem of Aziraphale pants.

Dear Lor--Dear Sat--Dear Spaghetti monster, please make sure that the crinkles won’t remain.

“Crowley.”

“Which one.”

“You, dearest. Care to explain?”

“I certainly can explain.”

“Angel.”

They both look down at a small Crowley with long hair and a black tunic, holding up a teddy bear Crowley knows for sure didn’t exist until very, very recently.

“Angel,” Long-hair Crowley repeats, offering the teddy bear for Aziraphale to take with a smile.

Aziraphale smiles in kind, taking the plushed toy and holding it against his chest. When he looks back at Crowley-Crowley, the fondness is still present in his eyes but his smile has vanished.

“Well then, I’m all ears.”

Crowley clears his throat, trying not to get distracted by the two baby Crowleys flying above them--they are very distracting, whispering to each other behind their wings (and why on Earth is one in the possession of white wings, of all things?!) before swooping down to pat Aziraphale’s curls and flying back above.

“Um. Well. Yes. Yesterday, when you left for your conference, I, I started reminiscing about all the years we have known each other, and all the time we have wasted as a “we”, you know, not a “weehee”, that wouldn’t make any sense …”

“Darling, focus.”

“Angel!”

“Right. So, reminiscing, time wasted, and then I thought that I would live it all all over again as long as you were still, well, by my side.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale says softly, his smile bashful and flattered at the same time.

“I had quite a large amount of wine--”

“I can imagine.”

“--and one thing lead to another.”

“You were having romantic thoughts and it lead you to cloning yourself?!”

“Parthenogenesis.”

“Bless you.”

“Not cloning, parthenogenesis.”

“Right. Your mind works in … mysterious ways, dear.”

Crowley had his mouth open to continue explaining himself, but he snaps it close to glare at Aziraphale.

“That’s bordering on the blasphemous, Angel.”

Aziraphale only replies with a very self-satisfied smile.

“Angel, Angel, Angel!”

All the babies start calling for Aziraphale’s attention.

“Oh, well,” Aziraphale says as he picks up Long-haired Crowley, tickling her with her teddy bear. “I suppose we really are on our own side.”

Crowley feels one of the winged babies landing on his shoulder and absent-mindedly picks him to cradle him in his arms.

(Oh. It’s the angelic one.

White does look good on him ….

Oh well.)

“And as such, we could have a family of … you, really.”

Crowley doesn’t reply, twisting his mouth.

“What is it, dear?”

“Do you think they will all turn into demons?” he mutters, letting angel Crowley gnaw on his finger. 

Aziraphale chuckles. “I hear that all children are little demons--we will have to put it to the test.”

“Angel.”

Aziraphale comes closer, careful not to step on the, well, crawling Crowleys. Reaching for Crowley’s neck with his free hand, he presses their foreheads together.

“Even if they do, if they turn into demons like you,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to Crowley’s lips, “then Life will only be brighter for it.”

It’s quite the miracle, demonic or otherwise, that Crowley doesn’t discorporate on the spot.

“Angel!”


End file.
